


Ouroboros

by Wynele



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Dark, F/M, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Murder, Mystery, Mythology abuse, Other, Pool Noodles, Spoilers for all seasons, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-02-07 07:52:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynele/pseuds/Wynele
Summary: Lucifer knew the end times would come. His father had planned it with the birth of humanity. He just never expected he'd have so much to lose-or that there might be a way to stop it all.For every ending, there is a story.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The plan was to finish Finders Keepers before the new season started--or failing that, finish Finders Keepers before starting a new story. Plans are boring and plany. Updates will be VERY slow for this story or fast depending on whimsy or boredom. Also, pie.

The world was unraveling.

It began with the deaths of small things, of nuisances that were not missed until they were gone. Insects no longer lay waste to crops for there were no crops. They were all lost not long after the bees.

Starvation wed war and misery spiraled. Soon the dead outnumbered the living and the dark wings of the Angel of Death cloaked the world.

Still within his penthouse, The devil stood out on the balcony and stared out at the ruins of the once great city of Los Angeles. It had been his home of home for the last fifty years and he would not abandon it, not so long as he could still sense faint glimmers of life around him.

He lived and died and fell in love in this city. Once, he had even fathered a child. It was his until the end. There was a sudden change the air, a slight lifting of the stifling oppression all around him. Bracing himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the balcony rail before him.

"No, no, no, no..." he gasped, over and over, the litany in the air. She couldn't be here. Not in this place. 

His heart sank as the penthouse filled with warm blue-white light. It receded as just as a dark haired girl of no more than sixteen appeared at the piano.

“Dad?”

Lucifer tipped his head back to glare at the sky and angrily shook his head. Breathing deeply, he turned just enough so that he could see the girl’s reflection in glass balcony doors. She had her mother’s eyes, but the rest of her was all him.

“Phoebe,” he began sternly in his best fatherly tone, but only managed to sound tired. “You’re supposed to be in The Silver City with your mother and sister.”

_And Ms. Lopez and Daniel and Doctor Linda and so many others…_

He couldn’t say their names, not out loud. To do so would mean admitting he was alone.

“Yeah,” Phoebe breathed and folded her pure white wings with a roll of her shoulders. “I’m not particularly good at doing what I’m told.”

“Oh, I know, my dear,” Lucifer purred into a snort and tried his best not to smile. "It's why your mother had white hair before she was fifty."

He knew he should send back where she would be safe, but all he could think about was the sudden scent of perfume in the air— honeysuckle and lemon balm with the barest hint of chamomile. It was a scent so much like the one Chloe wore until the day she died. It had been before the world ended, at least she was spared that much. 

He ducked his head down as Phoebe moved to stand beside him on the balcony. A fire had started across the street, and he didn’t bother to ponder how or why. With luck, it would go out in a few hours. Otherwise, he’d have to take care of it before it endangered one of the few remaining neighborhoods within the city.

She reached out and put her hands on the balcony rail, mirroring her father. Together they watched the fire as it spread down an alleyway toward an abandoned bakery. Once upon a time, they sold the best tiramisu in the city.

“We used to go there every Sunday,” Phoebe said mournfully as if reading his thoughts. Her long hands twisted around the railing, making the worn metal squeak. “You, me, and Mom. We used to fight over the last bomboloni.”

Lucifer did smile then, just the barest twitch of his lips, and edged closer to his daughter. Not too close, just enough so that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. She was only half angel, and yet, she was the closest thing to true divinity he had ever seen. Sometimes, most times if he were honest, he wondered how he could've helped create something so pure.

“Only for your mother to steal it while we were distracted.”

"Yeah," his daughter laughed, a happy, girlish sound that seemed to bounce off the crumbling stonework of LUX. It had been years since he’d seen her and would be years longer before he saw her again. He wouldn’t, couldn’t let her remain here. Not in this world. Not in this hell.

“Remember old Ms. Fabrizia?”

He did. He remembered them all, but Ms. Fabrizia had been one of the most special. She had been stern, but kind, and loved his daughter. Loved him too, though she would never admit it. He could still see her standing behind the counter, her pink and yellow checked apron splattered with flour. She used to draw flowers and butterflies on the pastry boxes and always had an extra cannoli for Phoebe. Then, the riots came, and he found her body in the street.  
  
"I remember that you had her wrapped around your finger."  
  
“Not really. She was just nice,” Phoebe said softly, flames from the fire reflecting in her blue eyes. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

Lucifer pressed his lips together and forced himself to pretend that the sting in his eyes was from the smoke. It was easier than reliving the memory of Ms. Fabrizia’s warm eyes and the motherly cluck of her tongue. "None of them did."

“Uncle R. S. A. asked me to give you a message,” Phoebe breathed as if it were a terrible burden. The fire finally reached the bakery, consuming it like so much kindling.

Glaring, Lucifer gave a mental middle finger to the heavens, and then turned away from his memories and back to his daughter. She was here, at least until he forced her away once more.

“Let me guess,” he began bitterly, but then reigned himself back. Years ago, he vowed his daughter would never be on the receiving end of his temper. “I’m to return to hell.”

“Yep,” Phoebe answered with a pop and flicked her tongue out over her bottom lip. “But Isafariel and some of the others, the younger angels, we have a plan—”

“Just who is this Uncle R. S. A. you’re going on about?” he asked quickly, steering her away for talks of plans, at least for the moment. Not long ago, he would've jumped at even the barest hope of a plan, but losing everything often reminded him of the precious few things he still had.   

“I wouldn’t say I’m going on about him,” she grumbled defensively and narrowed her eyes into a squint. “But, it's short for Uncle Random Stodgy Angel.”

At that moment, she looked so much like her mother that he could barely stand it.

Squirming a bit, she shrugged a barely precipitable lift of her shoulders before giving him a feigned look of innocence. As her father, he wasn't fooled for an instant, but he pretended to be if only to play along. 

“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t care enough to learn his name.”

Lucifer laughed suddenly, a dry rasping chuckle that sounded more like crumpled cellophane than true humor.

“Well played!”

His chuckles died into a rumble as he stepped away from the balcony. Perhaps it wouldn't too dangerous to allow Phoebe to remain a few hours. She would have to be gone before dawn when the first of the sun’s rays would reveal the mass graves and the bodies he had yet to bury. He wanted to spare her that much.

He walked to the bar and hesitated for a moment before clicking on the lights. The generators beneath the club were ancient, but strangely reliable so that LUX was one of the few buildings on the coast that still had power.

“Uncle Gabe liked it too.”

She stood on tiptoe to reach one of the few remaining bottles behind the bar. It was the bourbon Dan had given him at his bachelor party. How the Douche had become one of his closest friends and the best man at his wedding was a mystery he still sometimes pondered.

“I only look like a teenager,” Phoebe reminded before pouring them both a drink.

“Uncle Weirdo theorizes that I only age an hour or so for every few years I spent on the mortal plane and not at all in The Silver City or Hell. Same for other places, too, but I’m sure, but I haven’t been there—"

“Why are you here?”

His voice was little more than a whisper, but in the near silence of the penthouse, he may as well have been screaming.

“I sent you to The Silver City so you would be safe. Even…even if it meant I would never see you again.”

“Yeah, well,” Phoebe mouthed more than said and took a tentative sip of her drink. She shivered, making a face, and sputtered into a choking cough.

“…that’s really gross.”

“Phoebe,” he growled and tossed back his own drink. His face contorted to match his daughter’s, but he managed not to choke and set the tumbler back on the bar.

Typical, he supposed, that even the alcohol would go bad. He turned to his daughter and, almost completely on impulse, pulled her into her arms. He held her pressed to his chest, feeling the slow eternal thud of her heart against his.

Outside, the fire spread beyond the bakery to what had once been his favorite book store. There were no longer any books there to be lost, he had secreted them away to LUX decades ago.

“I can’t,” Phoebe mumbled into his chest and balled her hands into his shirt. “I won’t.”

“There, there, dear,” he soothed and held her closer when he realized she was crying. “The Silver City isn’t that terrible.”

It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. As much as he hated that place, he also loved it for the safety it granted his daughter. Carefully, he tangled his fingers into her dark curls, still as unruly as he remembered, and prepared himself for the words he never imagined himself speaking.

“I know your grandfather can be a right ass, but he…has a plan. It’s obviously not a good plan, but there must be a reason for all this. This, all this suffering cannot simply be for his own amusement.”

Phoebe shifted in his arms so that she could look up at him, her eyes wide and tear stained.

“He died.”

Lucifer gasped, his mind reeling, and he pulled away to hold her at arm’s length. It was a joke, or she was mistaking. What she said was impossible.

“He doesn’t speak to anyone. So much so that he may as well not exist. But, dear, he does.”

Phoebe made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and blinked away the last of her tears.

“Creation began to unravel after it happened. Some of the older angels tried to stop it, but they only managed to save The Silver City. And since most humans wind up there anyway, they considered it a victory, but Uncle Gabe and a lot of the others don't.”

“How? That’s no…I…” Lucifer stammered, his mind racing as his thoughts tumbled over each other. He had despised his father— or so he once believed— and resented him—that he knew for certain—but the knowledge of his death struck something deep and raw within him. It was the realization that he had never truly wanted his father dead.

“Aunt Haniel thinks he was murdered,” Phoebe informed and exhaled sharply as she tried to pull away, “and that some of the older angels tried to cover it up. She told Uncle Gabe who…”

Reluctantly, he released her and held his breath as climbed up on one of the bar stools. She was so small like her mother, but had his long limbs and delicate bones.

“He told mom and she roped Uncle Dan and Aunt Ella into helping her, but it’s you she needs.”

Something raged within him, anger, grief, perhaps, he wasn’t quite sure. Whatever it was hissed and crackled at the realization that his father’s killer was likely still within The Silver City, and thus forever beyond his reach; beyond punishment. Then there was Chloe, to see her again after so long. No, he didn't dare even consider it. 

“If I go, there will be war, and you could well lose the only home you have left.”

Phoebe sucked in a breath between her teeth, shaking her head. 

“It’s not my home,” she insisted, her voice trembling as she slid down from the barstool. “Mom and Trixie are there and so are Uncle Dan and Ella. They’re all very happy, so I pretend to be happy too. But, I’m not. I feel like I’m in hell.”

Chuckling fondly, Lucifer reached out to gently cup his daughter’s chin.

“Ah, where have we met before?” he wondered affectionately and traced her cheekbone with his thumb. “Oh, right me—”

Then, without warning, his throat squeezed shut as something cold, yet burning struck him just below his pulse point. Eyes wide with panic, he grappled at his throat until his frantic fingers met a tiny silver dart.

“Dad!” Phoebe shrieked as he slumped forward, her panicked cry the last thing he heard before the darkness took him.

 

********

 

Lucifer awoke sometime later in a warm and impossible soft bed. The bed linens smelled of honeysuckle and lemon balm with the barest hint of chamomile. Sighing deeply, he allowed himself to be content, if only for a moment and rolled on his side so that he could rub his cheek against the silken pillows. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know exactly where he was.

Slowly, he became aware that there was someone else in the bed beside him. He cracked open an eye, his heart sinking at the pale, too still form of his daughter.

“Just for the record, I was against the whole _Let’s kidnap Lucifer_ plan from the start,” insisted a voice from the far side of the room.

He pushed himself up on his elbow to see his sister, Paeliel, moving toward the bed carrying an overflowing tray. She shoved him back onto the bed without pretense, frowning as she peeled back his eyelid.

“I also reminded Anariel that your girl was half human, but the idiot apparently forgot or flat out just decided to ignore me,” she complained, slapping at his hands when he tried to push her away. “Either way, she gave her the same dose she gave you. And considering you outweigh her by almost one hundred pounds, well…”

Thoughts too muddled to speak, he reached out and carefully touched Phoebe’s cheek. She was so cold and pale that even her curls had lost their luster.

“Here,” Paeliel prodded gently and pressed a small silver vial into his hand. “That should help with the malaise.”

He ran the back of his knuckles along Phoebe’s cheek. When she was little, she used to sleep tucked in his wing. She always chose the left, insisting the right was too bony. Bracing himself, he downed the contents of the vial. Like all celestial elixirs, it tasted of everything and of nothing and evaporated the moment it touched his tongue.

“I think she should be fine in a few hours,” Paeliel clucked as she peeled back one of Phoebe's eyelids with much more care than she had his. “Oh, by the way? I lied.”

Lucifer froze, muscles tensing, but then began to blink rapidly as darkness began to eat away at his vision.

“What did—?”

“It was a sleeping potion,” Paeliel confessed as Lucifer slumped against the pillow. Gently, she lifted his arm so that she could tuck Phoebe into the hollow of his chest, and then covered them both with the blanket. "Poor little brother."

Slowly, she rose from the bed, careful not to jostle her tray, and walked backward out of the room. She set it down on a nearby table and pulled the door closed before reaching into her robes for an ornate brass key. It slid into the lock with an audible click, and then another when the tumblers rolled to lock the door.

Satisfied, Paeliel slipped the key back into her robes and retrieved her tray before continuing down a hallway of countless doors.   


	2. Chapter Two

With the loss of the Lightbringer the tattered thread binding the universe was finally free to unravel entirely. The sun ceased to rise and each night after endless night a new star dimmed and fell from the sky. The ensuing days were soon measured in waning starlight.

As the last star fell, the earth shook, shuddering as if trembling in fear, and the seas rose, swallowing entire cities. The Earth became a cold stone floating in an endless void. That is, except for a single square block of what had once been Los Angeles.

In the center of this block was building that had once been known as LUX. Once the seat of the Lightbringer’s power and the very heart of his domain, it was now the only place on this barren world that was still warm. There a young woman, heavy with child, did her best to survive.

A bitterly cold wind blasted across the earth as the Angel of Death unfurled her wings for what she believed was the last time. LUX answered, glowing fiercely as if in defiance, its ancient generators prepared to churn into eternity.

As the moon ascended the sky, it turned the color of blood and the thin piteous wail of a newborn echoed into the night.

 

*******

 

Lucifer awoke with a start, the infant’s cries still ringing in his ears. Had it been a dream, a nightmare, or a premonition of things to come? Had he just witnessed the end of humanity? The only thing he truly knew was he wasn’t in the mood to ponder.

His eyelids drooped, but then snapped open, gasping for breath as he tried to calm. After a long moment, he rolled his head sideways to where Phoebe had been sleeping beside him.

She was gone, had been for days, but today in her place was her old teddy bear. It was a devil bear, complete with tiny red horns and snow-white wings. He and Chloe found the bear in a little shop at the airport on their way to his estate in Argentina.

Chloe's last ultrasound had confirmed that their daughter was not entirely human, so they opted for a more private location than a mortal hospital. Chloe had always loved the estate, so it seemed like the perfect choice. They had made plans, of course. Doctor Linda and Ms. Lopez would handle the delivery, while Daniel would do whatever douches did on such on occasion. Phoebe, on the other hand, had other ideas. She came into this world on a warm and rainy night, a full month before she was due. And so, armed only with YouTube and a video chat from Ms. Lopez he was forced to deliver her himself.  

Slowly, he reached out and grazed the bear's scruffy tummy with his fingertips. He could still recall the moment as if it had just happened. Chloe exhausted, happy sobs, their daughter, their Phoebe red and wet from the birth, her bald wings twitching against his palms, and the cord that tied her still to her mother. They were three and one at that moment.

In dark dim of the memory, just below his daughter’s newborn cries, was the wailing of a child. It was the infant from the dream. Her cries echoed from within him, weaving and winding until he somehow found himself back on the mortal plane.

He felt as though he were floating, flying on weightless wings. There, but not truly, or perhaps not entirely. He could still feel the soft bed beneath him, still smell the scent of honeysuckle and lemon balm, and knew that he had not left The Silver City.

His awareness spread over the mortal plane but then focused, pinpointed on Los Angeles. The fire had spread several blocks, reducing the old abandoned buildings to skeletal husks. They jutted from the ground, reaching for the sky, for him, like twisted, bony fingers.

Out of instinct, or simple curiosity, he turned his attention to LUX. Though obviously decayed, the building remained in better condition than most within the city. His perception swept through the doors of LUX as if he were physically walking through them, and traveled up the elevator.

In the penthouse, he saw a young woman huddled with her newborn daughter. Above them, on the lid of the piano, was a single candle, its solitary flame keeping the darkness at bay.

He gasped, startled back fully into his body when the door creaked open suddenly. The image of the woman and the infant streaked away as if had been nothing more than a daydream or a nightmare. Perhaps it had been? Perhaps it was as he always believed. The Silver City was hell.

Hearing the telltale sound of Paeliel’s footsteps moving towards him, he exhaled softly and went utterly limp, pretending to be asleep.  His hand stretched to rest protectively on the bear. He had no idea how or why it was here only that it was one of the few things he had left of his daughter's.

Unfortunately, Paeliel was not so easily fooled. She uttered a long, put upon sigh once she reached the foot of the bed, and set her tray on the foot of the bed. This time it held a steaming bowl rather than the vials and tinctures of her previous visits. Either she wasn’t going to drug him again or she was changing tactics.

Wary, he watched through the fringe of his lashes as she bustled around the room. The metals loops sewn into her robes rattling as she moved. 

“I used to watch over you when you were young,” she reminded, not bothering to look at him. “I know when you’re pretending to be asleep.”

His stomach rumbled as the scent of the meal finally reached him. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten, but despite his hunger, he refused to open his eyes. If nothing else, he would force his sister to work for his reaction.

“Still stubborn?” Paeliel clucked and sat down beside him on the bed. “As I said before, I’m not responsible for your current predicament. You are still exiled, remember? The apocalypse does not change that. No matter how much some may wish otherwise.”

“Then return my daughter to me,” he hissed without opening his eyes, and burrowed deeper into the blankets, “and we’ll be on our way.”

He felt the blanket move against his cheek as Paeliel tugged it down to reveal his face.

“I sent your girl to her tutors,” she stated the edge of something unnamed in her voice. Then she sighed, softening by inches, and stared at the far wall as if she could see through it.

“Hasdiel has no doubt undermined me once again and spirited her away for some frivolous pursuit.”

Only barely listening, Lucifer rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. It was painted the same color Chloe had picked for their daughter’s nursery. Neither had wanted to use pink and he had always liked purple, so lavender seemed like the obvious choice.

“What does Cupid want with her?”

He jumped, a cry dying in his throat, as Paeliel’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar. She yanked him hard enough that his head bobbed back as he pitched forward.

“He loves her dearly,” she said simply, as if she weren’t manhandling the devil, and fluffed a pillow before shoving it behind his back.

She tugged at his limbs, and he let her, though not without the grumbles of protest. Though he tried, he found himself unable to physically resist. Paeliel’s grip was as sure and as strong as steel, while his own limbs, his very bones, may as well been rubber. They were so heavy and weak that just the simple act of sitting left him exhausted.

Finally satisfied, she dusted her hands on the front of her robe and moved to retrieve the tray of food from the foot of the bed. With a gentleness she hadn’t shown prior, she placed the tray lightly in his lap. In the perfect dead center of the tray was a large, steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese. It was the box kind, Chloe’s specialty.

“Hasdiel, Cupid, whatever the fool is calling himself this century, seems to believe that your girl is unhappy here,” Paeliel grumbled, half to herself. “Ungrateful is what she is.”

“Phoebe is—”

“She is fluent twelve languages and understands the fundamental theorems of sorcery,” Paeliel informed, speaking over him entirely. “We have also continued her musical education as you requested.”

Lucifer’s eyes fluttered shut as he breathed through his nostrils. Though half-human, Phoebe’s mind was that of a celestial. Agile and quick, she learned with phenomenal ease and seemed to devour knowledge. Chloe used to joke that the real reason their daughter aged so slowly was to prevent her from taking over the world.

“She’s worthless in a fight,” Paeliel grumbled, but there was a hint of undeniable fondness in her tone. “Unless her opponent happens to be Remiel—"

“What?” Lucifer rasped and gripped his spoon in one hand as if it were a blade. “Why did Remiel attack my daughter?”

The elder angel chuckled, a clattering rusty sound, and slowly shook her head. An airy lightness came over her as if someone had cracked a window in a stuffy room.

“Other way around, little brother.” She smiled just enough to show the barest hint of teeth. “The little fool thought she could stop your girl from the city. She was wrong.”

“Where is Phoebe now?” Lucifer demanded and tried to shove himself out of bed. He was frustratingly weak, so much so that all his efforts accomplished was to slosh some of the macaroni and cheese out of the bowl.

“With her tutors as I said,” Paeliel muttered, distractedly, and rose from the bed. She walked across the room to a large, ornate wardrobe and opened the double doors.

“We gathered what we could from your penthouse,” she explained as she rifled through the wardrobe. She pulled out a crimson shirt and his favorite Burberry suit. Had been his favorite, he mentally corrected himself. That particular suit had been destroyed almost fifty years ago. What his sister held as a facsimile; a cruel joke born of this place. As if he needed more reminders of why he hated it here.

 After a moment, she sighed and shoved both into the wardrobe before closing the doors. “Dress yourself. I’m not in the mood.”

“This isn’t what we agreed,” Lucifer growled out finally, fighting a wave of nausea. He wasn’t sure if it was the sedatives Paeliel kept forcing upon him, or if it was the months without proper food or rest, but he felt strangely unwell.

“You were supposed to keep her safe, within The Silver City, and away from Earth.”

“Yes, and you were supposed to return to Hell,” Paeliel challenged with a cluck of her tongue. “So do not speak as though you are the wronged party.”

Lucifer jerked forward, nearly knocking the tray from his lap. “I agreed to return once humanity was finished.”

“Yes,” Paeliel agreed with a sneer, “then you tried to save them all.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Lucifer mumbled, defeated, he was too tired to muster any real outrage. He also had his daughter to consider. “Let them die?”

“Yes.”

He blinked in surprise, his mouth opening, but then closing when words refused to form. Instead, he simply watched her walk around to his side of the bed. She reached out and laid a tender hand on his shoulder.

“If you had left, gone back to hell, they would have died in days, weeks at most. Instead, because you, because of your presence, and the false hope you fueled, they lingered for decades. All you accomplished was to prolong their suffering.”

Lucifer looked away as her stern features soften into something that could almost be considered kind. Jaw clenching, he balled his fists into the simple shift he was wearing. Someone had bathed and redressed him since he arrived. Normally, he would not have minded, but now it somehow felt like a violation.

His sister’s words replayed in his mind and with them came certain truths. Under his watch, humanity suffered. It lingered through war, famine, and pestilence. Would a quick merciful death, oblivion truly been better? Once more, as if in answer to his unspoken question, he heard the wail of the infant in his ears. It was then, he knew.

“No,” he sneered, shoving the tray away as he rose on wobbly knees from the bed. The silken shift bunched around his knees before finally fluttering down to his ankles. The clothing of The Silver City was still as ridiculous as he remembered.

“Following Dad’s plan, Dad’s rules. That’s your thing.”

Golden flames appeared in his eyes as the shadows within the room grew and stretched, writhing at his feet. Paeliel, unmovable as always, remained decidedly unimpressed.

“He’s gone,” she intoned softly and gently hefted her chin. “His rules no longer matter. Hence why you are here.”

“My daughter and I will be leaving shortly.”

“As you wish,” she sighed, as if she were only humoring him, and eyed him from head to toe. “If you are not going to eat, at least get dressed. I’ve seen enough of your backside for one eternity.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked to the door. She glanced over her shoulder at Lucifer before stepping through and locking it behind her.

Breathing in deeply, she willed herself to calm, to still, and walked down to the end of the hall where Hasdiel paced at the end of the hall. He paced a full circle, round and round, occasionally pausing to stroke the silver bow flung over his left shoulder.

He froze when she drew near and pivoted on his heel to face her. “How is he?”

Paeliel gave her brother a sour look and arched a brow. “Hello to you too, little brother.”

Hasdiel twitched, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and shrugged just enough to wiggle the quiver on his back. It was a warning and they both knew it.

“You claim he is ill,” he growled, his hazel eyes narrowing to slits, “but refuse to allow any of us to see him. Not even his own daughter.”

Paeliel wiped her hands on the front of her gown, her long fingers catching briefly on the metal loops. She sighed heavily in disapproval. “So, the girl is fussy, is she?”

“The girl has a name,” Hasdiel countered pointedly, his hand grappling at his bow. It was a nervous gesture rather than a threat. 

Paeliel goggled at him, her steely eyes wide and mocking. “No doubt.”

She huffed another breath and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before locking eyes with her brother. “Do you love her simply because she is half-human?”

“How can you even think….”

Anger struck him like lightning, shaking him to the core. Trembling, Hasdiel unslung his bow from his shoulder. He didn’t draw it, nor did he intend to. Instead, he was simply comforted by its familiar weight in his hands.

“I’d love her if she was half-giraffe,” he insisted, shifting the bow from one hand to the other. “Need I remind you that she is our niece.”

“No, you do not,” Paeliel answered flatly before blowing out a breath. “And yet, you still see fit to mention it every time come to inquire about your precious little brother.”

“Our little brother.”

She reached out, her fingertips just grazing his shoulder, but then turned on her heel.

“Yes,” she admitted softly and pulled an ornate brass key from her robes. “All I do is to protect him.”

Alarmed, Hasdiel took a small step forward, but then paused and bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. It was never a good idea to approach Paeliel while she was retreating.

“If you believe he’s in danger, we need to do something.”

Without a word, Paeliel began to make her way down the hall of doors. She stopped at the door opposite Lucifer’s and turned back around to face Hasdiel.

“If you wish to help, go to the mortal plane,” she commanded as she opened the door, “but do not tell Gabriel.”

Shocked Hasdiel took a step forward, but then paused and drew back into himself. There was nothing left of the mortal plane. There couldn’t be. It had already begun collapsing into the void when they rescued Lucifer.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Paeliel asked as she stepped through the door and gently pulled it closed behind her.

“Wait--!”

He scowled as the tumblers of the rolled, sending a clatter down the hall. Mentally, he cursed and ground his teeth. Without a key, he had no hope of navigating the House of Doors.

“You win this round,” he grumbled before unfurling his ivory wings. “But I will be back.”


End file.
